


Leaving Behind

by wizardey



Category: Heaven Official's Blessing, tgcf, tian guan ci fu, 天官赐福 - 墨香铜臭 | Tiān Guān Cì Fú - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:13:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28075266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wizardey/pseuds/wizardey
Summary: Years after the main events, somewhere in the world, Shi Qingxuan is still trying to leave everything behind.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 13





	Leaving Behind

_“Crack.”_

With that sound, the thin twig he held in his hands broke easily. He piled up the pieces aside and chose another one, thicker and full of splinters. He tried to break it, closed his fingers around it, and exerted some strength. He felt the splinters sinking into the hardener skin of his hands. It didn’t hurt, the daintiness that had once characterized his hands had been gone several years ago.

He stopped trying to break the branch, he wasn't strong enough; the fact that he had only eaten an apple all day surely had to do with it.

He sat closer to his makeshift bonfire, put an arm around his knees, and drew one end of the twig to the flames. The corner of his lips rose slightly, a tiny smile adorned his face. It was mid-winter, and he was feeling warm and safe. That was something to be relieved for…even happy.

He had found that dilapidated cottage almost a month ago and no annoying owner had appeared to try to kick him out yet. He was hoping it would last a little longer, preferably until autumn.

He took the twig away from the bonfire, it was still burning at the end. He stared at it for an instant before turning it off with a soft blow.

_**Wind.** _

The same wind that could extinguish a small flame, but stoke a whole bonfire.

An element with infinite versatility. A power that had previously flowed with his soul and his existence.

The smile disappeared from his lips. Time hadn't been kind enough, and it had not allowed him to forget what it felt like to master that force, to be able to do whatever he wanted with it.

He began to slide the burnt end of the twig over the floor, drawing a sketch unconsciously. The elegant and slender figure of a Heavenly Official started to take shape; long and silky hair floating through the air, sumptuous garments perfectly adjusted to his body and a fan in his right hand. Always there, as if it were part of himself.

He hesitated for a moment but then, almost by reflection, he began to draw another figure beside him. Without many details, something more similar to a shadow or a spectrum. A little bit taller and wider, just standing next to him.

He let out a resigned sigh. It was going to be one of those nights.

To tell the truth, and considering everything that had happened in his life, Shi Qingxuan had managed to maintain much of his personality. Radiant, mostly positive, one that could catch the attention of a crowd with his sole presence. He had never been the nostalgic type, he did not get sad easily either, and it was very rare for him to feel discouraged. That had not changed. He had faced everything with the best possible disposition, trying not to collapse.

However, there were nights. Difficult nights. When his mind seemed to lose the battle, and he wouldn’t have another option than to let himself dive into the mountain of thoughts he normally avoided.

His gaze fell back on the two figures he just traced, he threw the twig at the bonfire and used both arms to hug his knees now, shrinking as much as he could.

What was he feeling? Nostalgia? Sadness? Resentment? ...Hate?

Longing, maybe.

His glorious past was a burden he was never going to be able to get rid of. He had it all and now he doesn’t have anything but his memories. And they were always there, an obtrusive presence on the back of his mind, preventing him from being completely happy about the little good things he had.

A warm cottage in the middle of winter? Pff.

The same thought that had made him smile a while ago now irritated him. He didn't have to worry about these mortal trivialities before. Winter, Summer, what did it matter?

He rested his forehead against his knees, bit his lower lip, and squeezed his eyes. He wasn't going to cry. Yes, it could be one of those nights, and even if he was going to allow himself to feel, crying was not on the table.

In the middle of his stupor, he heard footsteps outside the cottage. He didn't panic and stood still, waiting for them to fade. He knew who he was and the reason why he was there.

After a while, and just when he was completely sure there was no one outside, he stood up with difficulty. A grimace of pain appeared on his face and he had to hold on for a moment before he could walk to the door.

Stupid legs, they were a nightmare.

He approached slowly, slid the wooden door, and looked outside. Indeed, there was a basket covered with a thin cloth and a decorative bow on the side resting on the entrance. It had no sender, but he clearly knew who had left it there.

_“Thank you, Dianxia.”_

He let out another sigh.

Dianxia was the only anchor left with his past life. At first, he liked to visit him frequently, he liked to feel welcomed, to know that he had a friend. That not everything was gone because Xie Lian was _still_ there.

But the years passed and everything changed. He became increasingly aware that his body was aging, his skin no longer felt so smooth, his arms and legs ached constantly, and he was getting tired and sick faster than usual. And although he had tried to convince himself that it was all a consequence of his current lifestyle, it was not entirely true.

How many years had it been? How old was he? He had stopped counting a long time ago. It was better that way. It was better not to think about it, to try to ignore it, but how could he ignore it if every time he visited Xie Lian reality hit him directly?

Without filters nor mercy. While he withered, Dianxia remained the same over the years; his beauty, his youth, his strength, everything was perfectly maintained, a glow that would never fade.

How could he stand it?

Certainly, it had been impossible. His visits became less frequent, more and more sporadic. Dianxia was confused for a while, constantly looking for him, but in the end, he seemed to understand and stopped insisting, respecting his space and his decision to be away.

But he was still there. Always worried, always reminding him that there was someone in this world that he could turn to. The thought was reassuring, comforting, but bittersweet.

He took the present Dianxia never forgot to bring him on his birthday. He closed the cottage’s door behind him and placed the basket on the floor, next to the bonfire as he returned to his original position, sitting and hugging his knees against his chest.

The contents of the basket were always similar. A couple of pieces of clothes, food, and various mixed items that always came in handy. A hairbrush, a box full of aromatic tea, paper and ink, and a small letter. Dianxia knew very well he wouldn't accept anything else.

He sighed, stretched out one of his hands, and passed it delicately over the figures he had drawn on the floor. He started erasing them little by little, blurring the edges and continuing with the inside, until they looked like two shapeless black spots.

He closed his eyes and let all his repressed emotions explode in his heart, flow through his veins, and take control of everything for a moment.

He allowed himself to think about how much he missed his old life, his strength, and the power he had over the wind. To think about how much he missed his brother and also the one he considered his best friend for a long time. He even allowed himself to think about how much he missed his old self.

_That night he dreamed he created a tornado._

_In a world where it was still possible._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> I really appreciate it.


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